Sweetheart
by AlreadyPainfullyGone
Summary: AU Dean's a soldier who visits a bar frequented mostly by crossdressers, there he meets Castiel, he just doesn't realise he's not a woman. Short, angsty and  hopefully  sexy.
1. Chapter 1

_Inspired partly by the movie Soldier's Girl and the face that I finder stoner Cas damned pretty. I got a review regarding my stories on adultery and incest, saying that I made someone like the kinds of things they wouldn't normally – well this is the stuff I usually hate, so I thought I'd give it a go. _

First night out of the base, first night to be Dean, and not just 'Winchester'. Leave it to Pvt. Uriel to take him to a strip joint. He was starting to like his bunkmate, unstable and cranky though he could be. 'The Sweetheart' might have looked shabby and altogether 80's, but inside it had hard liquor and the promise of some skin – which was what Dean craved after months of his sweating, stinking fellow recruits.

He was feeling fairly good about it, he'd gained a lot of muscle in basic and he had the kind of easy, open face that got him in good with most women. Steven Uriel drove them to the club in his ancient sedan. Dean, Ash, Michael and Steven squeezed into a mass of broad shoulders and heavy boots on the narrow felt seats.

He misses his car like he never has before. Like he misses a lot of things about his old life, shop classes, Sam, his Mom's apple pie. The easiness with which he used to live. When everything wasn't such a fucking struggle. He can handle the drills, the yelling and the thundering of hundreds of men all falling in, falling out and fighting amongst themselves when they aren't following orders. But just for tonight he wants to remember what it was like to be Dean Winchester, to be just a man who wants something and knows how to get it. Simply.

They crowd a small circular table near the stage, Dean hunches over his whisky, rough canvas jacket and jeans worn threadbare and to the shape of his strong legs. All the sequins and silk around the place make him feel rougher than usual. On the stage a chick with long blond hair sings something showy, kicking her fishnets up to the drumbeat.

"That's a dude." Michael's thick brow furrows at the dancer. "The fuck...Uriel?"

Ash laughs like this is the funniest thing ever, but then he's pretty drunk already. Uriel just smirks like oil in firelight, slow and dark. This is his idea of a joke, bringing them to a bar for freaks and queers.

"I'm going for a piss." Dean gets to his feet with difficulty. His accent's worse now that he's drunk, snarling up into a Kansas drawl that makes him sound like a hick without even a GED. Stumbling though the dark, shimmery club he finds the bathroom, uses the stained urinal and shoulders his way out through a side door at the end of the hallway. If he isn't getting laid tonight he can at least enjoy a little bit of peace outside.

It's raining. The awning runs with water, falling like it's thicker than it should be. Greasy neon's reflect in it and for a second Dean thinks that he'd kill for a view of the sky. Just the sky, without light pollution or perimeter lamps.

There's also a woman outside.

He can tell it's a chick because she's dressed like one, and not like a show girl or a whore or whatever the dudes on stage were aiming for. Her short, dark hair just reaches the nape of her neck and she's wearing a normal outfit – skirt and stockings with cute heels and a blouse. Real tits and a nice ass to boot. She notices him almost right away, turning from her silent contemplation of the rain to lay intense blue eyes on him. They're ringed with sooty lashes and even in the dark her skin glows surreally pale. A hint of clear gloss makes her mouth slick, and it's a pretty mouth, dirty and soft.

Heat and whisky snake towards his groin. He can work with that mouth.

"Sorry" he mumbles as the door clunks shut behind him. "You gettin' out of the rain?"

"I don't like being wet" her voice comes out like smoke, laced with catlike curiosity. Deep and soft and hot as hell. Blue eyes rake over his suddenly too tight jeans and sweat-damp T-shirt. "Were you looking for something?"

Coy and fucking knowing at the same time.

"Yeah" he manages in a rush of dry mouthed breath.

She nods once, dropping a cigarette he hadn't noticed, closing the distance between them and taking Dean gently by the hand. She leads them back until she's pressed against the wall, Dean looming over her, taller by almost a foot. Her heels scraping on the sidewalk, silk stockings snagging on his jeans.

"What's your name?" He almost growls against her delicate throat.

"Cas" fingers, long fingers, hook his belt. "My name is Cas..."

Her mouth works quickly, wetly, over his, moans and whimpers following ever flick of his tongue. Dean lets his hands rub at her blouse, pushing it aside and sweeping his calloused fingers over the milky skin underneath. Feeling her shake. Her head tips against his shoulder, pearly teeth and tongue raking over his skin, used as it is to rough blankets and rougher uniforms. He groans, thrusting against her and meeting...hardness.

Dean leaps away as if burnt.

"Oh" Blue eyes meet his beneath their fringe of dusky hair, alight with understanding. "I'm sorry." And there's nothing feminine in his face, in this man's pale, beautiful skin.

Dean burns inside.

He bolts for the car, catching Uriel and the others.

"Where'd you get to?" Michael snaps.

"Restroom. Stomach feels like I ate road kill."

They drive back to the base in relative silence.

Dean falls into the sleep of the completely drunk and wretched. Waking hard from a touch he can still remember, burnt into him by another man. He jerks of, wrenching himself on purpose, but he can still taste him, smoke and slick gloss and spit. He comes hard, wanting the planes of his slim body against his own.

His duties go without incident. He runs his drills, stacks equipment for loading, speaks to no one. What would he say? There are rules here, loudly reminding him that he's crossed into territory best left alone. The soft, hard, wonderful, beautiful _ man, _is not something he can have. Not here in this dirty, starched, rough place.

At noon Uriel sends Ash to get him.

He has a visitor at the gatehouse.

At first the guy looks like a Jehovah's Witness, darkly suited and drowning in a crumpled tan trench coat. Then Dean gets closer and it's the eyes that tip him off, sharp and blue and open. A quick slip of pink crosses his chapped lips, moistening a trail.

Dean is left with him in the guardhouse, Uriel and Ash shoot him curious looks as they march back up to the base proper.

"I came to apologise." His voice is as deep as before, rougher this morning like he's been smoking too much, too fast. "I didn't realise that you were..." he tries again "Not many soldiers come to the club and it didn't occur to me that you wouldn't know..."

"That you're a dude." Dean's voice sounds too angry, but dead at its core.

"I didn't think I was that convincing." He brushes a hand over his hair, spiked upwards now as opposed to swept flat.

"Why'd you do it...dress like that" Dean's eyes burn over him sceptically and the other man cocks his head slightly.

"I like it" a hint of wolfish smile quirks his mouth, revealing teeth that Dean can still feel against his throat. "It makes me feel..." his narrow hips shift unconsciously.

"You get off on it" Dean sneers, uncomfortable at how much he wants this guy, even in his dour church suit. The guy just quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't argue.

"You're not getting your girl on today though."

"Sometimes it's necessary to blend in."

"Shame" He doesn't mean it like a challenge, well, almost. What he wants is for this guy to fuck off, get offended by the small minded army dick routine and leave him alone. Instead his lowers his black slacks with a thumb at the hip, revealing a slip of black lace and dark blue silk.

"A concession" he murmurs.

Dean's own finger reach out to brush the fabric without his consent. The man hums low in his throat, long, delicate fingers smoothing Dean's jaw.

"I'm not..." he pants, suddenly heated and hard.

"I know" the other man almost growls, kissing him roughly, slamming them back against the wall, pulling Dean against him and arching into him. "Just touch me."


	2. Chapter 2

_Some mindless filth (woooo!) and the beginnings of a plot, which was rather unexpected. _

At night, most nights, when the frost creeps over the barracks and he's alone with the snores of Uriel and twenty other men, Dean tells himself he isn't gay.

He only meets with Castiel once a month, always at the other man's apartment. They drink, side by side on the couch, before Castiel runs a long fingered hand up Dean's thigh. They kiss, rub against each other while Castiel waits patiently for Dean to loosen up, let go of himself enough to get down to it.

After they've finished he showers, alone, to get rid of the scent of come and whatever perfume Castiel's skin smells lightly of. Then it's back to the base, another month of solitary orgasms.

They don't call, or write. When he meets Castiel at the diner on route 43, their agreed place, he's always dressed like any run of the mill guy. Later, at his apartment he fixes Dean a glass of whisky, the good stuff, and goes off to change into different clothes.

Not 'something more comfortable' or 'something sexy' - just different clothes, in which Castiel looks just as beautiful as he does in anything.

Once he's shimmied into his skirt, dress or whatever he's decided to wear, he approaches Dean carefully, testing to see if he's buzzed enough, needy enough to go through with this again. Then Dean gets a lapful of slim hips and silk, gliding on Castiel's white skin. A hot mouth to his ear.

"I missed you."

He bends Castiel over the couch, bunching the skirt up around his waist, holding the slippery fabric of his underwear to one side, thrusting hard. Castiel finds his grip on the back of the couch, pushing sharply backwards every time Dean rocks further into him. Castiel lets his head fall back, or else, forwards, hanging low and watching Dean's hands bruising his hips. He's as vocal as Dean is stoic, thrusting back each time with a litany of, "Yes...Yes...oohh...uh...Yes...fuck...Fuck!...Yeees...there..." legs spreading wider.

Dean just grips harder, pushes harder, jerks Castiel back by his hair when he gets too loud.

"Sorry..." he pants, staying quiet for maybe a second or two before losing it again.

"Dean...Dean, oh please...god...yes...yess..." on and on, because even as Dean moves faster, harder inside of him, he isn't in a rush. He drags it out, holding off, stopping to slip a few fingers inside of the willing, limp body spread legged over the couch, almost sobbing for release.

These are the only moments when he doesn't care whether he's gay or not. When he doesn't want men or women, just Castiel, both and neither and everything. Spread open and willing and begging for whatever Dean wants to give.

He finally comes, running with sweat, falling full into the body beneath him, Castiel just wriggles his hips, stretching with a contented sigh.

"God you feel good." He moans lazily. Dean wonders sometimes why Castiel is like this, so wanton, always wanting it all the time. One day he'll ask how he came to like taking it up the ass, stockings shredded by grasping fingers.

One day Castiel will tell him.


	3. Chapter 3

_I promise, PROMISE that there is no child abuse in this plot – there are however some secrets and heartbreak coming out in the next update. Dean's comments here are just him being a jerk, ok? _

It goes like this for almost a year, monthly meetings and rough sex and very little in between. In all that time Dean doesn't really speak to Castiel, beyond the required answers to questions, the occasional direction, "Further" "Wider".

For some reason the dam breaks on their eleventh hook-up. It's the first time Dean pushes Castiel onto his back, as opposed to over the couch or the bed. Castiel struggles against the hold Dean has on his wrists, wanting to flip onto his front. They're almost at the point of no return, Castiel is practically naked, still retaining his silky blouse. Dean's still clothed because he never takes off more than the necessary.

"No" Dean insists, quietly, holding him down on the mattress, knee spreading Castiel's legs. The other man blinks at him cautiously, not knowing what Dean wants. He waits until Dean's prepping him, two fingers sliding thickly through lube and tight muscle.

"You know this doesn't make you less queer, right? Doing it like this." He murmurs, thrusting against Dean's hand all the same. Dean adds two more fingers without warning, making Castiel wince, gasping out a shocked breath before he regains enough control to smirk. "I see." He looks down at Dean's unreadable face. "You really hate loving this, don't you? Hate that I'm..."

"That you're what Cas?" brutal ovals of pressure strike his prostate. "Do you even know?" it's the most Dean's ever said all at once. "Because what I see...all I see, is a guy who needs to get gussied up and used like a fucking whore, before he gets off." Another deep thrust of his fingers breaks Castiel's stormy frown into a helpless groan. "That's a...family, thing right?" Dean's pissed off now, hating himself, hating Castiel for pointing out how goddamn weak he is. "Your Dad make you do this, huh?"

Castiel's bare foot strikes his shoulder, shoving him to the floor. When Dean looks up Castiel looks equal parts destroyed and apocalyptically angry. He's suddenly sorry, hurting somewhere for what he's done to Castiel.

"Cas...I'm..."

"Get out, Dean" Castiel sounds tired and murderous, voice low and charged. "Just get the fuck out, ok?" He turns his back on Dean, lying on the bed and tugging the quilt over him so only a sliver of dark hair is visible.

Dean remains frozen on the floor for a second, fingers sticky with lube. After a while he gets up and sits awkwardly on the bed behind Castiel, who ignores him completely, face buried under the faded cotton. Dean strips off his jacket and T-shirt, kicking off his canvas fatigues and edging under the quilt. Castiel's body is shaking with barely contained fury and tears, still facing determinedly away as Dean tugs him back against his chest, wrapping his arms around him.

"If you think I'm such a fucking freak, why the hell are you still here?" he can't muster any anger, just resignation. There's a lot of things Dean could say, a lot of things he wants to tell Castiel but can't because he doesn't know how.

"You're beautiful, Cas" he mumbles, sweeping a hand over the other man's abdomen. Castiel snorts bitterly, moving away.

"Don't, just...don't ok?"

Dean gently pulls him back, turning his head so Castiel has to look him in the eye. Surprised blue eye blink up at him, smudged eyeliner showing where a few tears have blurred across his lashes.

"I think, you're beautiful." He says, almost daring Castiel to argue. His hands find the buttons for the blouse, slipping it off and stroking the newly exposed skin. "Even without all this stuff. I want you, ok." He admits, shakily.

Castiel kisses him.

That make love for the first time, face to face under the quilt, moaning quietly and closely into each other's mouths.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean takes a week of leave, planning to go back home and spend some time with Sam. What actually happens is that he ends up at Castiel's for three days straight.

Dean turns up on Friday, drops his bag inside the front door and strips out of his clothes, leaving them in the hall. He spends three days alternatively inside Castiel, moving slowly towards his climax even as Castiel moans into his mouth. The rest of the time they lie, tangled in the increasingly messy bed, watching late night TV, eating something with chillies and noodles because it's all Cas knows how to make.

They also talk.

"Rita Johanson. Aged fifteen, back of a Chevy with no back wheels and a cracked axle." Dean murmurs against Castiel's neck, holding the younger man so that his back is pressed to Dean's chest. "She was the first girl I did it with."

"Classy" Castiel stretches, catlike and naked, sheet thrown low on his hips. He pauses as though considering.

"My first was my brother, Jimmy."

Dean's stroking hand falters, leaving Castiel's arm for a moment before returning, silently telling him to continue.

"I'm a twin, you know." His voice is detached, but husky, as if he's told this story so many times before that it's become just a collection of words. "Jimmy and I were inseparable, always together when we were kids. Then we got older..." he leans back against Dean a little more. "...and if you're already that close it's easy to..._see_ each other, like that. I saw Jimmy." He muses on that for a second. "Then, after a while he had his big gay freak-out, said it wasn't right for us to keep fucking...his word, not mine. I thought we were..." he shakes his head "Doesn't matter, anyway now he's married with a kid over in Illinois, church going accountant with a pension plan. And I've spent most of my life proving that incest was the tip of this freak-berg." He sits up, fumbling for a cigarette, hands shaking despite his flippancy.

Dean waits for him to settle back into his lap, offering the only comfort he can, slipping a hand around Castiel's dick. He hisses, arching in the touch, then lifting his hips from Dean's lazily with each movement of his fist.

"Mmmm...I miss..." he frowns, eyes hazy with sex already "I miss him...sometimes...I kept screwing around...dressing like that...letting them fuck me...God, like that..." his head falls back against Dean's shoulder, hips lifting into his slick grasp, tightening possessively. "He should have seen...the difference...it was different with him..." Dean nips at his neck, thighs gripping Castiel, fist tightening, body arching with Cas's as he lifts off of the bed.

"And me?" Dean almost snarls against Castiel's neck, because this isn't the first time he's felt that, for all Castiel is his first, the first man he's slept with. Dean knows Castiel's had others, so many others and that he's taken them all inside of him. Somehow it makes him furious, jealous and hard at the same time. Castiel spreading himself for another man.

"You're..." Castiel pants hard, eyes squeezed shut, chest flushing and beaded with sweat. His hips heave valiantly upwards, driving his cock through the rough circle of Dean's calloused palm. "You're...ugh...please..." The cry splits Dean open. "Fuck! Just..._" _He pumps hard and Castiel comes with a shattered groan, stuttering out the sound even as he falls limply back against Dan, slick with sweat. His breathing is uneven, his eyes still shut.

Dean goes to move out from under him, but Castiel twists, sitting astride him heavily, pressing their foreheads together.

"You're mine." He insists, voice so rough that Dean has a hard time remembering that he thought Cas was a chick when they first met. He sighs as he sinks down on Dean, still wet and open from before. Dean just groans, thrusting upwards into the tight heat he's come to know better than any other, the only place he can find release.

"I've never had anything be mine before." Castiel whispers into his hair, hands grasping his shoulders as he draws himself up, and then back down.

The weird thing is that, it's Dean who says it first, even though he rarely says anything.

"I love you Cas" he gasps against his mouth, as Castiel moves slowly, hips circling as he sinks back down onto Dean's aching cock. Castiel smiles, wider and more brilliantly than Dean's seen him smile before.

"I love you too"


	5. Chapter 5

On the fourth day of his leave Castiel announces that he's supposed to go and visit Jimmy that week. Dean doesn't even think about it before he says, "I'll go with you, if you want." Castiel holds him tighter, snuffling close to his neck.

"I'd like that."

After they've showered Castiel puts on his one and only suit, the boring trench coat goes over the top and he toes on his loafers. He looks so strange, Dean can't help but keep staring at him. It's been ages since he's seen Castiel in wholly masculine clothes, even when they meet at the diner he's usually wearing a woman's shirt or heels, something to keep himself grounded the way he likes.

He looks miserable and keeps tugging the suit jacket.

"You could change" Dean reminds him, as he slips into his own best clothes, a button down and his least ripped jeans. "I'm not gonna look right either." Castiel considers for a moment, then kicks the shoes off, followed by his pants.

"Can you find..." he turns to find Dean already holding a scrap of filmy underwear. He tangles the fabric through his own fingers, slyly rubbing the silk. "Thank you." He slips them on carefully, draws his dress pants on over the top, leaving his discarded boxers on the floor. The loafers too are left behind, though the tiny heels on the black pumps he hooks out from under the dresser are almost hidden by his pants.

They take Castiel's car, a beaten up thing with bench seats and only one wing mirror. He lets Dean drive.

At Jimmy's house Castiel knocks on the door, which opens to reveal a pretty woman with long brown hair and a twin set.

"Amelia" Castiel smiles, submitting to a careful, one armed embrace. He catches her questioning look. "This is Dean." Dean can only shake her hand and try not to worry about the crucifix she's wearing and the upscale neighbourhood they're in. Amelia smiles and, to her credit, over comes any awkwardness well.

"Come on in" she leads them into the living room. Castiel's brother is already there, Jimmy Novak is slightly more muscled than Cas (which isn't saying much because Castiel is slighter than anyone Dean's ever met) he's wearing a blue button down and a day's worth of clean-cut stubble. Dean sweeps him with a gaze, intrigued that this is what Castiel would look like if he was...well, male-fulltime.

"Castiel" Jimmy nods in greeting, his eyes lock with Dean's making his stomach jolt with unease. "And..."

"This is Dean" Castiel cuts in blithely, he smiles at his niece, Claire and accepts a cup of coffee when it's offered.

"And he's..." Jimmy asks, a little sharper than is reassuring.

"In the military" Cas replies, a trace of wickedness belying his innocent tone. Dean sits next to him on the cream coloured couch. He has no idea why he wanted to come here. Aside from the fact that this is Castiel's family, and he wants to get as far into Castiel's life as possible, not just into his body, where others have gone before.

Everyone seems to accept the fact that Dean isn't much of a conversationalist. Claire tells Castiel how she's doing at school, then ducks out to go play upstairs. Amelia enquires about Castiel's work (he rigs lighting and sound for The Sweetheart most evenings) he asks after her health. Jimmy watches Dean and Castiel with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

It's not until Jimmy gets Castiel alone in the kitchen, on the pretence of helping him fix lunch, that he actually says anything. Dean isn't stupid, he knows Jimmy's probably going to lay into Cas the first chance he gets, so he gets up to the kitchen door and listens, just in case Cas needs some help.

"...exactly what you're doing." Jimmy hisses. "Why else would you bring one of your...fuck buddies, here." Something chinks against the counter "Jesus Cas, this is my home."

"Dean's special" Castiel says lightly, voice at normal volume, which is still pretty low. "Besides, he wanted to come."

"Great. Really, good for you." Jimmy mutters sardonically. "You finally found someone who'll stick around once they've gotten off." Castiel just sighs.

"It's not like that, I think...I think he likes me. I don't think even he knows why." His tone is one of suppressed wonder and Dean's momentarily stunned by how...well, happy, it makes him.

Jimmy's tone softens.

"He's a nice, straight, boy, Cas." He says, gently. "He's going to end up with a wife and a mess of kids back in Ohio, or wherever, and you're never going to see him again."

"You're wrong" Castiel says quietly, but not with half the assurance Dean expects of him. "Dean's..."

"Normal" Jimmy cuts in. "just like me, just like you could have been, could still be – Cas..." He huffs and Dean can imagine him shaking his head, this older, stronger seeming version of Castiel. "Look at you, I mean, you're wearing women's shoes...you're taking it from men, from strangers...like a teenager going off the rails." His tone sharpens "You're an adult, it's time this phase ended, ok?"

Dean almost falls flat on his back as Jimmy comes through the door. He fixes Dean with a surprised look that melts quickly into a frown. He takes in Dean's scuffed boots and worn jeans, the layers of muscle and sheer broadness of a Kansas born soldier. For a second Dean see's what Jimmy must see – a farm boy with a wicked streak, honing in on the nearest available body to take out his frustrations and hang ups.

It's the first time Dean realises that that isn't what he's doing.

He grabs Jimmy's arm.

"You shouldn't talk. To him. Like that." He murmurs, squeezing gently to get his point across.

"He's my brother" Jimmy grinds out, not backing down at all. For that at least Dean respects him.

"He's mine." He says, because it's true.

At that moment Castiel comes out of the door, more hang dog than ever. He stops when he sees Dean and Jimmy squaring up. Dean releases the other mans arm and slips his own around Castiel, gently squeezing his waist. He brushes a kiss against the long soft hair by his ear.

Together they all go back to the living room. The conversation runs as before, except now Castiel is less tense and less guarded. Jimmy regards them both like he's trying to work them out.

It starts snowing some time during dinner and doesn't stop. By the time they're due to leave there are already a good few inches of powder on the roads. Amelia takes one look out of the window and shakes her head.

"I'll make up the guest room, you two aren't going anywhere tonight." At Dean's widened eyes and Castiel's incredulous eyebrows she blushes. "I'm sorry...I just assumed you two were..."

"We are" Dean mutters, suddenly interested in his boots. "I figured you wouldn't want us sharing a bed here though."

Amelia smiles, genuinely and brilliantly. Dean's starting to like her, Jimmy too, despite his attitude seems to be an ok guy, for the most part.

"As long as you keep in mind that Claire's here too." She reminds them gently.

Castiel and Dean are ushered upstairs to a room bigger than Castiel's whole living space, painted pale cream and with a large teak bed. Amelia hands them a pile of neatly folded comforters.

"Goodnight."

Through the wall they hear her and Jimmy preparing for bed. Castiel shucks off his suit and shirt, Dean strips down to his boxers. Pale and perfect in just the slip of satiny underwear, Castiel looks uncertainly at Dean, who reaches out to tug down the scrap of fabric. Naked, they crawl into the bed, Dean bending his larger body around the small man. Castiel burrows against him with a sigh. It's warm beneath the masses of blankets, Dean sleeps better than he has for months.


	6. Chapter 6

They wake up, cocooned in blankets and warmth, the scent of sweet pancakes wafting under the door. Castiel stretches, then settles back into the hold Dean has on him, rubbing his face sleepily into his shoulder.

"I could get used to this." Dean mutters, head buried in a feather pillow, armful of sleep warmed Castiel and a decent breakfast in the offing.

"Mmmmm..." is Castiel's only response.

They get dressed and slip downstairs, accepting plates of breakfast from Amelia. Dean sits close by Castiel, a bulky protective figure, and Castiel moves with him, shadowing his gestures unconsciously. Even Jimmy seems to relax – the trouble he was expecting seems to be at least further off that he thought. Castiel is happy, and Dean is clearly enamoured with his brother.

With the sun out the snow is already starting to melt, so after breakfast they stand on the porch to say their goodbyes and Dean and Castiel set off in the car.

"Guess you've used a lot of your leave on me." Castiel's leaning against the window, listening idly to the radio.

"Yeah." Dean agrees, then lapses into thought for a few seconds. "But, uh...I guess we could still make Kansas if we tried." Castiel cocks his head, a half smile flirting with his features.

"You want me to meet your parents?"

Dean nods.

"Won't they..." Castiel scoots across the seat and lays his head in Dean's denim clad lap. "I mean Jimmy barely gets me...and we used to sleep together...your family might..." Dean trails a hand through Castiel's fluffed up hair, eliciting a happy sigh.

"They'll like you. But...I don't know, we'll just say you're a friend? Least until I'm ready to tell them about us."

Castiel's smile widens, Catlike and ecstatic.

"We're an us? I'm part of an us." He says, playfully. He gently takes hold of Dean's hand, running his lips over the palm before drawing one of his fingers into his mouth methodically, humming slightly.

"Pull over." He murmurs sweetly. Dean does.

Somewhere in between Castiel lowering his zipper and sucking gently on the straining flesh underneath, and arriving at his parents' house – Dean realises that he no longer thinks of a future that doesn't involve Castiel.

Castiel drapes himself loosely against Dean's side, watching him shiver through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He knows he gives a good blowjob, just like he knows he's pretty enough to get laid by anyone at The Sweetheart. But recently he's wanted to give Dean more, not just his body, whenever the opportunity presents itself, but also his affection, the rambling story of his life. He wants to see Dean's family, his old home, and he wants to have a place with him that's theirs, like the home Jimmy and his wife share.

The phase in his life that Jimmy speaks of with scorn has ended. Castiel knows that he's never going to meet a stranger in a bar and spread for him in a motel room, or get down on his knees in an alley, for anyone but Dean. He's still going to wear whatever he wants, do anything he can think of that gets Dean inside of him, but he's changing. They both are.

Sam greets them as they pull into the drive. He's grown about a foot in the time Dean's been away, all long legs and impressive arm span. He stops what he's doing when he notices who's driving the car, smile wavering into curiosity as Castiel gets out of the passenger side.

"Uh, hey Dean." He waves "Who'd you bring?"

"This is Cas" Dean jerks a thumb towards Castiel, followed by a heavy, friendly arm around his shoulder. Castiel looks up at him with such an open expression of affection that for a second Dean's sure Sam'll notice. But his brother is already off again, puppy like enthusiasm taking over.

"Cool, Mom'll probably have enough pie for extra, she's been baking since Monday. We figured you'd be home for the week."

"Stopped off with Cas's family on the way." Dean says, guiding Castiel towards the front door of the large suburban house.

Inside Dean kicks off his boots next to a row of similarly dirt clogged footwear. Castiel toes off his own shoes and follows after. If Sam notices the narrow, heeled slippers next to Dean's boots he gives no sign of it.

"Mom!" Dean hugs a willowy blond woman in an enormous checked apron. She holds her floury hands out awkwardly, smiling up at her son.

"Dean, we were expecting you days ago, I was worried" she chides. Dean ducks his head, his rarely seen smile spreading wider every second.

"Yeah, we took a detour to visit Cas's brother." He ushers Castiel forwards. "This is Cas."

Mary Winchester smiles at the new addition to the room. She takes in his elegant wrists, delicate features and slight build. The soft fall of carefully tamed hair and the way his open blue eyes never seem to leave her son. He's breathtakingly beautiful and strange at the same time, not like Dean in any way.

"Hello, Cas?" he nods solemnly, extending a hand, shaking hers even through its coating of pastry flour. "Dean, why don't you take your friend and Sam outside, lunch'll be another few minutes."

"Come on Cas, I'll show you my baby" he slings an arm around Castiel again and guides him through the house, they kick their shoes back on and head for the garage. Inside Dean whips a canvas cover from his car. Sam rolls his eyes.

"Saw that, jerk" Dean snarks good naturedly "Sam's just jealous because his car's made of plastic."

"It gets good mileage" Sam responds instantly, taking up his part in the familiar argument. Castiel runs a hand over the carefully waxed metal, bending to look through the side window. Dean notices Sam's eyebrows shooting to his hairline. Dean follows his gaze to where the fabric of Castiel's lacy 23underwear is showing between the dark slacks and his pale skin.

"Dean..." Sam begins, quietly.

"Don't Sam" Dean cuts him off. Castiel turns, blinking awkwardly at them. "Cas, can you give us a minute?" Castiel just nods and makes his way silently from the garage.

Sam turns on Dean the second he's out of earshot.

"Who's that guy Dean?" his eyes narrow. "and why is he wearing panties?"

"He's..." Dean can't say the word 'boyfriend' he just can't. "Look, we've been getting together for a few months, and I really like him so..."

"You mean hooking up?" Sam couldn't look more stunned if Dean'd told him he was marrying the Pope. "Dean...you're not gay."

"I know that Sam." Dean rolls his eyes. "But I thought he was a chick before and then..."

"Wait...he was dressed, like a girl?" Sam shakes his head. "Oh then that makes it fine." He mutters sourly.

"Will you quit talking about it?" Dean hisses. "I like Cas ok, I wanted him to meet you guys but you can't let Dad find out." He frowns. "He wouldn't understand."

"I don't understand" Sam points out. "But...I don't know, you seem kind of...happy." he trails off. "It's weird."

"Yeah, I know. He just makes me happy." Dean looks sweet for maybe a fraction of a second, then his smirk takes over his face again. "and if you tell Dad, I'll have to tell him what you did with Gabe in his backroom last summer."

"Dean!" Sam goes scarlet. "how do you..."

"You're not that subtle, Samantha." Dean dodges past him towards the door. "At least I'm the dude in my relationship."

Sam just grins annoyingly.

"What?" Dean scowls, not liking the lack of reaction.

"You said relationship." Sam teases.

"Did not." Dean yanks open the door.

"Did to" Castiel says, pushing him gently back into the cover of the garage and kissing him gently.

"Ok...still here you know...guys?" Sam ducks out of the door and closes it like it's the gate of hell. There are some things he just shouldn't have to see.


	7. Chapter 7

Things start falling apart the day Dean learns he's being shipped out to Iraq.

He takes the evening out and hitches all the way to Castiel's apartment in a light drizzle. When he gets there he sees Castiel on the rickety balcony.

He isn't alone.

There's a guy with him. Dean freezes beneath a tree in the scrubby front yard. He watches the stranger hop down the stairs and climb up into a pick-up across the street.

Ten seconds later he's banging on the door of Cas's place like the legions of hell.

"Who the fuck was he?" he growls the second Castiel opens the door.

"Dean" his eyes are wide, smudgy makeup on the lids. He's wearing a short, black dress and heels.

He stinks of sex.

Dean isn't even thinking as he pushes Castiel backwards, the smaller man staggers on his high shoes. Dean shoves again and then grabs Castiel by the arms, forcing him back until his legs hit the bed. The scent of sex intensifies as the sheets are disturbed, Castiel lies, wide eyed and stunned, only beginning to struggle when Dean pushes down on top of him, spreading his legs.

"Dean...what the fuck are you..." He kicks out, losing a shoe, scratching his blunt nails across Dean's shoulder. "Get...off..." Dean jerks him brutally, shaking him and dumping him back on the bed.

"Shut. Up. Cas." He's just holding him down, after a few seconds Castiel stops struggling and just looks up at him. Dean glowers back, face thunderous. "you sleeping around on me? Acting like a fucking whore, Jesus."

Castiel's lashes dust against his lower lids as his eyes flutter closed.

"That's exactly what I am." He opens his eyes, looking stricken. "Dean, I'm so sorry..."

"You're..." his chest feels tight. "You sonofa-" he's hit him before he knows it, open palm snapping Cas's head back against the mattress. He winces, gasping out a shocked breath. "That's why you were in the alley? Looking for your next meal ticket..." Castiel doesn't look at him. "Your next high? What?"

He's hard, still pinning Castiel to the bed. He fumbles between them, pulling at his zipper, hitching up the skirt of Castiel's dress.

"Please...don't..." his voice is strained, breaking. "Dean...don't do this."

The first thrust burns like a mother, ripping everything so suddenly that for a second he can't feel. Dean sobs out a moan, straining forward, settling on a punishing pace that drags Castiel to the edge of hell and back. He can't think, or move, the pain is so intense. Ironically, horribly, it would be worse if he hadn't already had someone inside of him.

Above him Dean is panting, eyes squeezed shut, jaw locked. He's hurting, losing the first man he's slept with, the first person he's loved, to a lie. Castiel is a whore, not just a slut with some issues, but an honest to God fuck-toy for hire. Everything he's given Dean can be bought, could have been bought and has been, by strangers.

Dean barely registers the hand on his face, at least for a few seconds. It strokes his skin gently, softly.

"Dean?" the voice is tight with pain, but not angry. "Dean? Baby, it's ok...it's ok..." Castiel's hand meshes into Dean's hair, gently running his blunt nails over his scalp. It's a warm, animal feeling, a pack action. Dean's thrusting grinds to a halt, leaving him buried in aching, resistant muscle. He collapses, throat burning and eyes watering with furious, shamed tears.

Castiel winces, pressing his face into Dean's hair and letting out a long stuttering breath.

After a while Dean pulls out, lying beside Castiel and staring up at the ceiling.

"Why do you do it?" he asks, quietly.

"I needed the money." Castiel frowns, a rough breath escaping him. "well...five years ago I needed the money...It's just all I can do, my other job doesn't pay much and I...I'm good at it."

"You are that." Dean says, bitterly.

"Hey" his voice is soft. "when I said I loved you, I meant it. And what you said to Jimmy... no one's..claimed me, like that before."

"So, you turn a trick to celebrate?"

"So...I panicked." Castiel turns to him. "because I'm not worth that much...least I don't think so...I guess I was right."

"Cas..." rapidly forming bruises carve bracelets around his wrists. Dean thumbs one, then leans to lick it, pressing his lips to the flesh.

"I know." Castiel pets his hair. "I'll heal...and I won't do that again, never." He curls up. "I'm so sorry." Dean sits up, smoothing Castiel's spine.

"Cas...I fucking...raped...you." His voice catches on the word. "you should...I don't know, get mad, kick me out, call the cops...something."

"I love you" Castiel moves to rest against Dean's side. "and I know you won't do it again."

Dean doesn't know what to say to that, so he goes with the only thing he knows for sure.

"I love you too Cas." He holds him tight, trying to blot out the memory of what he's done. "and I'm going to spend...the next thirty, or however many years, trying to make this up to you."

Internally he adds _or however long I've got._


	8. Chapter 8

_Cas,_

_So far we haven't seen much action, guess things have slowed down here. We've been in occupation a few months, locals don't seem hostile. _

_It's killing me, thinking about what happened. I'm sorry, it's not enough but I am. I never wanted to do anything like that before. I never will again, I swear._

_When I get back, there's a lot of stuff I need to say to you. But I have to say it to your face. _

_Dean. _

He never writes 'love' or anything that could be construed as weak or feminine. His letters lack details because he can't give anything away. Castiel reads them sitting on his bed in the spare room at Jimmy's.

A lot of things have changed. The Sweetheart finally closed down, so he lost his job. He could have kept up his rent on tricks alone but he'd promised he wouldn't. He also found that he didn't want to. Jimmy offered the room when Castiel called and told him that he was getting kicked out. They were doing better with each other now, since Dean.

Jimmy was the only person aside from Dean who Castiel could really talk to. Consequently he was the only one Cas could tell about what Dean had done. Jimmy took the news that his twin had basically been a rent boy surprisingly well, offering only a comforting shoulder squeeze and silence. He didn't handle Dean's response with as much understanding.

"I'll kill him" he thundered, low and quiet. "I. Will. Fucking. Murder. Him. Cas."

Castiel just shook his head.

Castiel had hated Dean privately, despite his soft words to him before he left. He'd thrown out his sheets, dealt with the pain Dean's attack had left him with and he'd drank, a lot. Dean had hurt him, had taken the thing in which he trusted him most and turned it into retribution. But he loved Castiel, of that he was sure.

And despite what had happened, Castiel was sure he loved Dean. He knew that staying with Dean and coping with what had happened would cause less pain than giving him up entirely.

_Dean,_

_I lost my job and my place so I'm writing this at Jimmy's. Don't worry, he's been fairly good to me, considering. _

_He knows. _

_I'm sorry, but I had to tell someone. But it's ok, I've had time to think, and...we're going to be good again. I know it. _

_Be safe. _

_Cas. _

Dean's tour of duty is only a year, but it begins to feel like Castiel will never see him again.

He tries to stay busy, and starts by getting a job out in straight society – somewhere that isn't anything like The Sweetheart. Being a lighting tech at a girl's drama college has its advantages – it doesn't put him anywhere near temptation for one thing. Not that he would, but he gets lonely and he doesn't trust himself entirely after years of multi-partnered bed hopping.

_Cas _

_We lost Uriel. _

_Company's pretty cut up, I think I was the last one to see him. _

_Things have changed here._

_I miss you so fucking much right now._

_Dean._

He feels helpless, reading Dean's letters. There's so much he doesn't know about the situation. Jimmy catches on to the fact that he reads and watches any news coverage of the war with a kind of rapt misery. After a while he starts TiVo'ing documentaries for Castiel to watch, going over them first to make sure there's nothing in them that'll make him worry more. Mostly they're dry things, without the shocking visuals that some others go for. But despite Jimmy's careful monitoring, Castiel still receives enough information to drive himself crazy with fear and worry.

Land mines, ambushes, riots, fires and chaos. He has nightmares and then hates himself for being afraid.

Dean is living it.

_Dean_

_I love you. Please don't die._

He doesn't send it, but he writes it, thinks it almost a dozen times a day. What he sends out is this –

_Dean,_

_Three more months. _

_I love you. _

_Cas. _

He saves enough money to move out of Jimmy's place. He gets an apartment across town and visits his brother for Sunday lunch every week. They've reached a truce, Jimmy is happy with Amelia, Castiel is happy with Dean. That's all they need to know. There's still something between them, but it isn't love, or lust –more like the feeling that divorced couples must carry for each other, underneath their newer loves.

_Cas,_

_It's so hard out here. I can't even tell you here, but don't worry. Never worry – because I'm coming back. _

_Dean. _

He worries, of course he does. The love he feels for Dean, once such a teenage, frisky impulse, is no longer sweet and pleasant. It's hurt them both, made them hurt each other and it makes their separation even worse. Castiel wants Dean home so badly he can feel it in his veins, aching.

_Dean,_

_I'll be waiting. _

_I promise. _

_Cas. _

The month before Dean's return comes, tentatively Castiel begins to hope. He gets some of the nicer whisky, learns how to make something that isn't chilli noodles and gets a haircut. He hasn't really looked after himself since Dean left, now he pulls himself together.

_Cas,_

_Remember when we met? I thought you were easy, just waiting in an alley for someone to fuck you. Turns out you were. But I found you first. _

_That means I get to keep you. _

_Always. _

_Dean. _

The package arrives while Castiel is in the shower, addressed to Castiel Novak, care of James Novak.

He opens it to find the letter, crinkled at the edges from where it's been carried in a pocket. It took Dean three weeks to decide to post it. With the letter, comes Dean's heavy silver ring.

_Dean,_

_For as long as you want me. And then maybe a little longer. _

_Cas. _

The month of Dean's return comes and goes.

Castiel receives no word.

Two fraught months pass by.

_Dean,_

_What's happened? Did they extend your tour?_

_Cas._

No response.

_Dean,_

_I know you were due back months ago. Why aren't you?_

_I don't care if you've changed your mind, ok? I just want to know you're safe. _

_Cas._

No response.

_Dean,_

_Please just talk to me._

_Castiel. _

Four months after he was due back, Castiel has still received no word from Dean. He struggles daily with the thought that Dean is dead, killed and unidentified. He frets that he simply got bored of Castiel, or met someone else or decided it was all a mistake.

He can handle anything, as long as he isn't dead. Please God don't let him be dead.

He borrows Jimmy's car and drives out the way he remembers going to Dean's home. He doesn't know the address but he drives around until he recognises a street, he finds the house after a few hours of circling different blocks.

It helps that Sam is standing outside. He looks surprised when Castiel pulls up and gets out of the car.

"Cas, right?" Sam asks, cautiously.

"Yes." He adjusts his button down self consciously. He hates wearing it but he couldn't show up dressed like a woman. "Is Dean back?"

"Yeah...he didn't call you?" Sam seems genuinely surprised.

"No. Thank you." Castiel opens the door of the car. Dean is alive, he just doesn't want him.

"Wait!" Sam jumps forward and puts his hand on the door. "I told him to call you, ages ago, he said he had, that you didn't want to see him."

Castiel shakes his head, briefly wondering if Jimmy somehow took the call and then kept it from him. He doubts it; Jimmy has never been given to vicious impulses.

"He's in the garage, working on the car." Sam still seems to hesitate. "He's pretty...well, he's messed up, from what happened over there. I can't say what he's thinking right now."

"Ok." Castiel hugs his arms around himself. "I'd like to see him, please."

Sam leads him towards the garage, opening the door and calling cautiously.

"Dean?"

"Sammy?" a rough voice comes out of the shadowy interior. The only light comes from a lamp, hooked over the open hood. "Thought you were headin' out."

"I was." He pauses "Castiel is here."

A freezing silence fills the small space.

"Cas?"

"Hello Dean."

"Sam...did you do this?" his voice is quiet, but dangerous.

"No, I swear."

"I came to find out what had happened to you, but...I see you're alright so, I'll leave if you want me to."

"No!" Sam grabs his arm, even though he's made no attempt to move. "Dean, talk to him."

"Butt out Sam."

"Sack up Dean." Sam shoves Castiel through the door and closes it, banging once from the outside. "Talk to him."

In the dark Castiel hears Dean sigh.

"Dean..." Castiel moves through the shadows, towards the glow of the lamp, as he gets closer Dean begins to back away. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"You don't want to see me" Dean draws further back.

"Of course I do."

"No, Cas, you really don't want to see me." He makes a sound like a sob, quirked into a bitter laugh. "I'm fucked up, ok?...we were caught in an attack, I got a car blown up in my face."

Castiel moves forward, Dean is backed against the wall. "Show me"

"Cas..."

"Show me."

Dean steps sideways into the yellowish light. Castiel can't help the way his face breaks open into pained sorrow. The left side of Dean's face is scarred, deep and white in places, raised and red in others, stiff and roughened like carved wax. His eye is closed over with scorched tissue, most of his hair on that side singed off and showing no signs of regrowing. His neck is similarly burnt, the skin puckered and loose.

"I know...it's ugly." He nearly growls. "I fucking...I know, ok? That's why I didn't call you."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore." Dean reaches up to touch the scarring. "It's just...ugly." He flinches when Castiel's fingers join his own.

"What you did to me was ugly...this is just..." he strokes Dean's face. "It's just a scar...I thought you were dead, did you know that?"

"I'm sorry." Dean closes his eye, leaning into Castiel's hand. "I just thought..."

"I said I wouldn't leave you." He moves closer, allowing Dean to wrap his arms around him. "in sickness and in health, all that crap remember."

Dean presses his ruined face into Castiel's shoulder.

Later on he'll get to everything he wanted to say to Castiel, now that he can say it face to face. Right now he just holds on to Castiel, knowing he's more than he deserves, but that he gets to keep him anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks for all the reviews – you've turned this from a one shot into a full fledged story._

_Quick explaination – 'Bent' is slang for queer where I am – didn't know if everyone would get that, so I just thought I'd explain. Feel free to think I'm a weirdo. _

John isn't exactly enamoured with Castiel. In fact, to say that he thinks' he's the source of all evil would be an understatement.

He's only just got his son, military hero, back from the war – scarred and mentally fucked up beyond all reckoning. He doesn't need his gay lover around showing him he never really knew his son before he went and changed on him.

Castiel stays out of his way as much as possible. Dean's room is on the far side of the house, so he spends a lot of time there, or out in the garage, always with Dean. Together they lie on the floor beside Dean's narrow childhood bed and, gradually Dean tells Castiel what happened out in Iraq. He tells him about Uriel's death and the nights they spent under fire. The bodies they discovered in the abandoned camps, people he'd known during basic and more strangers besides. He tells all that he remembers of the accident that ruined his face and almost cost him his life.

Under Dean's quiet urging, Castiel tells him about his life. How Jimmy rejected him and that he'd been left to deal with his body, alone. Fifteen and gay, lonely and hurt. How he'd slept around, taken anything he could get his hands on, discovered the pleasure that came from dressing up, how some men had liked it. The wrong kinds of men, a lot older than himself and dizzyingly powerful.

He'd gotten in with a guy named Crowley, big on the drugs and on pretty kids like Castiel. He'd been eighteen. After a while Crowley had gotten bored with his new bed partner, had started loaning him out to people he knew. Castiel was too high to mind.

The first time he got paid he'd shoved the money out of sight and forgotten about it. But somehow it became a regular thing.

They don't talk about the future.

Dean won't let Castiel touch him.

While Dean works on the impala in the garage, Castiel sits beneath the hanging lamps and reads paperback novels loaned to him by Mary. Dean's Mom is a lot nicer than his Dad, she brings them food when John is sitting, thunder faced at the dining table. Castiel guesses that Mary is just happy to see Dean somewhat comforted. Castiel is just happy Dean is no longer suffering alone. Because it's one thing for your family to accept you, broken, scarred as you are. But to have someone else choose you anyway...he can imagine that Dean thinks that's impossible.

He loves Dean, more than he thought he could after so many years of impersonal screwing and desperate liaisons. But Dean doesn't believe that Castiel could want him, in any way, now that he's damaged. It's not just the scars, his mind is full of all that happened out there and he's never going to escape it, not really. Dean realises this, he knows he can't love anyone completely whilst he's stuck somewhere else.

Castiel tries.

Whilst they lie separately on the floor, trying to get to sleep, Castiel lifts his hand to Dean's arm. He's brushed away, the nervous twitch of Dean's body curling in on itself, not wanting Castiel to lie to him with loving touches. He perseveres patiently, moving to lie almost touching him, their warmth mingling together.

One night as they're getting ready for bed Castiel strips out of his borrowed jeans and lies naked in their tangled blankets.

"I want to see you" he says, softly. As gentle as he can be, even though Dean is six foot and strong and in no way a blushing virgin. Because he's somehow more delicate, and he needs time, but also some guidance.

Slowly Dean drops his jeans, tugs off his shirt. Castiel doesn't try to touch him, but instead looks at him, knowing that Dean can feel his eyes on his bare skin. Dean doesn't get under the blankets, he leaves himself bare to Castiel's gaze, eyes closed, body fighting to remain relaxed.

Castiel makes a small noise of affection, releasing Dean from his inspection and allowing him to get underneath the blankets. Close but not connected, Castiel murmurs into the dark space between himself and Dean's back, which is turned to him.

"I like that. Looking at you."

The next night Dean undresses without being asked, lying down beside his old lover as if he's never been inside of him. Just allowing himself to be looked at.

Castiel practically purrs at the pleasure of looking. The night after that, the night after that – it becomes their new tradition.

John finally breaks a month after Castiel extends his day long visit into residency.

Castiel runs into him on the way back from the shower, shivering with a towel wrapped around his shoulders. John frowns at him like old wood carved deeply, Castiel just tries to slink by with his eyes on the floor.

"How long are you going to be staying here, boy?" John doesn't let him get back to Dean's room, barring the way and forcing Castiel to look at him.

"As long as Dean needs me."

"My son" he stresses the words angrily "doesn't need bent tail like you. He's a soldier, a goddamn hero..."

"And now he's a faggot." Castiel cuts in seriously, allowing the word to strike for him. "and still the best man I have ever known...he's been good enough to forgive me." Castiel looks right into John's angry, speechless face. "I'm lucky if I'm half the man he is. But I think I'll stay, as long as he wants me here..."

"This is my house." John grates out. "and you do not, speak to me, that way."

"It seems I have to." Castiel moves quickly past him and walks towards Dean's room. "and don't call me 'boy', Sir." He turns slightly, favouring the older man with his soul deep stare. "I'm older than I look."

It's not really true, but hell, he's seen enough, done enough, not to be a boy, not ever again.

John Winchester may be a lot of things, but a fool and an asshole? Not so much. He can respect Castiel for protecting Dean, for sticking by him even now he's been hurt. He also knows that his son, never the biggest talker and now practically mute, has improved a hell of a lot since Castiel Novak appeared in their yard.

Of course Dean heard every word.

That night he undresses for Castiel as has become their habit. Castiel is lying on top of the blankets, and Dean can make out the hard line of his cock even in the semidarkness. When Dean lies down Castiel rolls onto his side, still watching. His hips twitch languidly, arousal almost forgotten as he runs his eyes over Dean's body.

"Touch it" Dean's voice comes out rough with lack of use. Castiel's eyes flick curiously to his face. "Touch yourself, Cas."

Blue eyes fixed on his face, Castiel ghosts a slender hand over his own chest, running down over his abdomen reverently, until his long fingers reach his arousal. His eyes become hooded, a low hiss escaping his plush lips as he grasps himself, rolling onto his back, spreading his legs a little and beginning to pump his cock through his fist. Dean holds himself up on one arm, leaning slightly over the other man, keeping his face in view.

Castiel hums brokenly with pleasure, hand working himself as he looks over Dean's body, greedy eyes sweeping over taught muscles, scars, the dark trail of hair at his navel, his strong throat, his heavy arousal, the puckered skin of a gunshot wound in his thigh.

"Dean" he almost whimpers, breaking Dean from his trancelike vigil over his ecstasy riddled body. "I need..." his hips rise off the floor, thrusting in search of pressure. Dean knows exactly what Castiel needs, what it takes to get him off. He hesitates, because touching Castiel is like claiming him, acknowledging that he wants his to stay.

Dean's still terrified that he won't.

Castiel's wrecked throat chokes another whine, his hand moving faster as he chases his orgasm. He bites his lip. He can't get there, not without being filled, without the breaching, penetrating, force he's come to revel in.

Dean's finger presses against the tight pucker of his entrance.

Castiel mewls, thrusting sharply against it with a grateful moan, taking the dry digit with only a brief wince. Dean has a second to appreciate the tight, scorching heat of Castiel's clenching passage, before the smaller man is coming with a shaky groan, spilling over himself and pushing down against Dean's hand, burying his finger deep inside himself with a happy mewl.

"You ok?" Dean asks, gruffly.

"Mmmm?...s'good" Castiel blinks up at him, heedless of the come pooled on his pale stomach. He closes his eyes a little and hums, moving unconsciously on Dean's finger, gripping it with his internal muscles. Dean shivers at the pressure.

"On day I'm going to do this for you." Castiel murmurs, breath catching as Dean briefly snags his prostate. "would you like that?" more pressure on the nerves inside of him, sending white flashes up behind his drooping lids. "...yes then...oh Christ...yes" he mutters as Dean presses a second finger to his hole. His eyes find Dean's, searching and curious.

"Don't start something you're not going to finish." He warns, catlike smile slicking across his mouth "I'll get cranky if you don't finish me" Dean just pumps his fingers, waiting for Castiel to harden again. When he does, writhing on the floor in frustration, Dean takes him in hand and brings him off again. One hand on his dick, three fingers rubbing his prostate raw. Castiel doesn't so much come as break, spasming with a cry and twitching into Dean's grasp. Eyes squeezed shut he sobs out the last of his pleasure, stilling on the floor, fucked out and loose. Dean removes his fingers and shifts away from Castiel when the smaller man starts to curl up to him. Turning his back and covering himself.

"Dean...please..." Castiel's voice is quiet, small.

"Go to sleep Cas"

Castiel freezes, loneliness cutting through his hazy pleasure. Because Dean has just made him come, twice, and fairly explosively at that. But he won't take him slowly, filing him up, connecting, and he certainly doesn't want to touch Castiel any more than necessary. A post-fuck comfort session is clearly not going to happen.

So Castiel is left, semen cooling on his chilly skin, shaking with the after effects of orgasm, Dean's back turned to him. It's worse than being with one of his johns, at least they leave afterwards, they don't just ignore him.

Dean stays resolutely quiet. He doesn't want to give Castiel any kind of control, and that includes showing his emotions, or letting go enough to come inside of him. At the back of his mind he's scared that if he starts to count on Cas hanging around, then the other man will turn tail and run. Back to his own apartment, back to his life before Dean and the gorgeous, able men who populated it.


	10. Chapter 10

He takes it for as long as he can.

Dean shows no sign of changing the arrangement anytime soon, though Castiel catches the same darkly frustrated look on his face each time they're together. Dean wants him, he's sure of that at least. Torn between desire for sex and the purer need for comfort, for touch. But Dean fights it, holds off on himself and tries to appease Castiel, to keep him close by with offerings of one sided pleasure.

A few weeks pass, Castiel becomes one single nerve on edge, waiting for Dean to let him in. Waiting for him to finally understand that he isn't going to leave, that it's ok for Dean to want him, because he wants him right back.

Most nights Dean will ask Castiel to touch himself. He waits, watching Castiel skate the edge of climax, until he can bring himself to touch him. Fingers pumping where he used to fit himself, harsh ovals of stimulation replacing the smoother touches of his head. Castiel whines, as the minutes tick by, struggling towards his orgasm. After a while his mewls intensify, slowly becoming a litany of 'Fuck me Fuck me Fuck me' thrusting at Dean's hand and trying fitfully to touch his shoulders, his chest, to wrap his fingers in his hair. Dean dodges him, waiting for Castiel's hands to fall as the smaller man falls apart, coming without much pleasure.

And every time Dean just moves away, turning his ruined face to the wall, leaving Castiel to clean himself up and hug his arms around himself on the other side of their make shift bed. He tries, talking to the wide expanse of indifferent back.

"Dean, look at me" he asks gently. "Please, can you just..." he reaches out a hand and barely ghosts it across the tense flesh of Dean's lower back before the other man pulls away roughly. "I need you, Dean please." If he tries too much, or reaches for Dean again, he'll get up, tug clothes on and go to sleep in the impala.

He wants to wrap his arms around him. To hold, to be held, to lie in bed and just touch. To take Dean inside of him like before and feel him tip over the edge.

The last time he felt that was before he went away. Over a year, and then it was the brutal act of a man desperate to keep what was his.

Castiel almost looks back on it with longing.

And it gives him an idea.

A few nights after their most recent tryst, Dean wakes up to a warm body on his. He struggles immediately, but with little success.

Castiel shushes gently against his ear, stroking his hands up Dean's arms, which he's tied to the feet of the bed behind them.

"Cas, get the hell off me."

Castiel sits back on him, Dean's erection pressing into the curve of his backside. His hands stroke Dean's chest, tracing over the scars there. Dean flinches.

"Castiel." Rough and begging.

"Dean." He licks a wet stripe up Dean's throat, over the puckered tissue in the hollow of his jaw. "Hello Dean." He purrs, settling himself and working his way back down Dean's neck, seated atop Dean's naked body like he belongs there. Dean turns his face away from the sensation, delicate and catlike in its affection. Castiel reaches his chest, catching at a nipple with careful teeth, nudging it with his soft mouth. He hums, low in his throat, sliding backwards as he explores Dean's prone body.

"Cas" he rasps out, watching the dark head of his lover descend his chest, catching at his hips and strong thighs. "Don't"

"Why?" his voice cracks, but he continues, skating gooseflesh across Dean's flank as he breaths on it, nipping with white teeth.

"You don't have to"

Castiel reaches Dean's crotch, nosing the crisp dark hair trail and following it down to suck bluntly at the root of his cock, the stubble stark hollow of his throat catching at the tip. Dean whimpers, it's been a long time for him, his nerves are burning.

"I want to" Castiel's finger teases his length, meandering senseless patterns. "I always want you." Dean's whimper sounds more like a sob. "and I'm not going to stop" Castiel's head descends between Dean's legs, which spread automatically, thick muscled flanks shaking. "never...ever...leaving" He kisses the smooth space just behind Dean's sack, earning a shocked groan and a shaky sound which might be his name. Coaxing Dean's hips upwards Castiel applies the pink pad of his tongue to the nervous pucker of Dean's entrance.

With a thigh on either side of him he works Dean open with kittenish strokes. Tiny murmuring cries scratching his throat every time Dean stutters a moan. Dean is lost to the feeling, the thin, flickering organ that plunges into him, worshipping his convulsing walls with swift, teasing licks. Cas's catlike smile presses against his hole, the feel of it is more than enough to send him to the edge.

Castiel pulls away, leaving him blurry with desire and suddenly empty. His hands pull nervously at their bonds. Castiel moves away from him slightly, and then the returns, the warm pressure of his body stronger than before. His mouth finds Dean's ear, light hands thumbing the pulse in his bound wrists. Dean feels the blunt head of him against his ass, sliding a slick with lube.

"I've never done this before" Castiel's voice is breathy, trembling. Dean can smell musk on him, sweat and the thin scent of the lube. "You're going to be my first." He nudges gently into him and Dean moans, pressing into him, welcoming anything that will fill the space in him. "Am I going to be your first, Dean?"

He knows he is, Dean knows and Castiel knows – but he still feels the uncertainty there.

"Cas" he pants, Castiel moves his head slightly, raising his eyes to Deans. And Christ but they're blue, he'd forgotten, forgotten so much. "I want you" his mouth catches at the other mans, pulling him into an open mouthed kiss, wet and welcoming. Castiel hums with pleasure.

"I want you too" his nose rubs against Dean's Adam's apple, mouth falling to trace his collar bone.

He enters Dean in one long thrust, bottoming out with a harsh moan. Whilst tending to Dean's opening he'd traced his prostate, never hitting it directly, now he finds it easily, rutting against it until Dean's panting, head thrown back.

"That's why I like this so much" Castiel's voice is filthy in his ear, wrecked and shaking and oh so commanding. "Feels...so, good, Dean." He hisses as Dean's walls grips him. "When you're inside me." Dean can't remember Castiel any other way, loses sight of his memories of Cas bent over before him, moaning like a whore. This is all there is, the body pinning him down, rocking into him and making him feel like he's burning all the way through. Like hell and sin. Castiel's hands all over him, claiming him and relishing him. Want and desire chasing away his fear. Castiel gasps, arching and nuzzling the scarred side of his face as he comes. Dean bucks, clenching around the warm pulses that fill him, trembling through his own orgasm.

Castiel unties him, barely moving to do so. Dean's arms, almost dead with cramp, wrap around the smaller man, bringing him in close and warm.

And neither of them needs to say anything else.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean realises he isn't going to lose Castiel in the same place he realised he was in love. Jimmy's house.

They pay Castiel's brother a visit because Cas has to go back to work now the school's started up again and both he and Dean are avoiding the talk they have to have. The one where Cas says he has to go back to his apartment and Dean tells him he can't leave his parents house. That people will stare and tell him they 'appreciate what he did over there', most of all they'll look at Cas and wonder why the hell he's with a monster like him.

"We're here." Cas says gently. Dean stopped the car in front of Jimmy's house a full fifteen minutes ago. He's been stuck in the front seat of the impala ever since. Castiel eases his hand across Dean's shoulders, creeping, catlike, into his lap. He kisses Dean, sweet and loving, so much so that Dean has trouble remembering that Cas was a whore for years.

"You don't have to" he breathes against Dean's mouth. "not if you don't want."

Dean clicks his door open, sliding out from underneath Castiel and turning to pull him out of the car. Two women are walking down the street towards them and Dean can feel the minute they set eyes on him. Their easy smiles freeze for a second and they seem to flicker with indecision before they continue in his direction. He feels his shoulders rise protectively. It's not like he can hide, never could before, not the size he is and he looks out of place enough in a nice place like this. The scars just make it worse. He doesn't think Castiel has noticed until a warm hand touches his hip. Castiel kisses him again, filthily this time, wide open mouth wet and filled with hot breath.

"I fucking love you" Castiel's smile is huge, and he looks young and excited. Dean has an uncommon flash of imagination, he can see how Castiel must have looked at fifteen, young and soft and fresh. He wishes that he could have known him then, when he'd first began to look at men. He wonders if Castiel would have looked at him, and what he would have seen if he had.

There are a few things Jimmy Novak will never forget. How it felt when Michael Garrison punched him in the face, aged fifteen, for being a fag. What Castiel looked like, naked and wide open with expectation, the first time they touched each other like lovers instead of brothers. The look on his face when Jimmy told him, jaw still swollen with bruises, that they had to stop it – stop themselves.

He remembers Castiel high, mouth swollen from kissing Gabriel Milton in the back seat of his car.

Of course he remembers other things; Amelia on their wedding day. The day he found out she was pregnant with Claire.

But his life is always with Castiel, always was, always will be.

The most recent unforgettable thing was Castiel driving himself crazy with worry for Dean. Before that it was his face, a mixture of pain and sorrow, when Castiel told him what he'd driven Dean to do to him.

Meeting Dean for a second time, seeing his face.

Jimmy will never forget that. Ever.

Dean stands on the stoop, Work boots and jeans the same as the last time he stood there, Castiel's arm slung low around his waist. Jimmy looks at his ravaged face for a second, then looks Dean straight in the eye.

"You hurt my brother again, and I will kill you. Understand?" his face is immobile, emotionless.

"I won't" Dean feels something throb in his chest as he says it. Jimmy looks at him a second longer.

"Come in then" He backs away from the door, walking back into the kitchen and flipping on the coffee maker. "Amelia" he begins as Castiel and Dean settle at the breakfast table. "is out with Claire, so we can...talk properly." Jimmy sits at the table, a dark jacketed figure with oddly pale wrists resting on the wooden table top. "Castiel believes you to be...uncomfortable, with the idea of living in town"

"Cas..." Dean rounds on his lover.

"Don't interrupt me" Jimmy says, evenly. "I'm trying to...look" he loses his formal manner, and suddenly reminds Dean so strongly of Castiel that he has to look away. "I want to make things easy for the two of you...for Castiel mostly, but for you as well Dean." He rubs a hand across his tired face. "I have a friend, more of an acquaintance, Bobby Singer, he runs a salvage yard and I may have helped him with his accounts...not strictly legal accounts."

"Meaning..." Dean's finding this quite emasculating, Jimmy wanting to take care of him and Cas...but then, given what they've been through he guesses they could use a hand.

"He owes me a favour...and he's looking to retire. He's selling his house, the business, everything. Tiny place in the country, few miles from a small town." Jimmy looks Dean close in the eye again. He has to hand it to the guy, he has balls. "I will front you the money, as a loan. If you want me to."

"Shouldn't you ask..."

"I'm asking you. Not Castiel." Jimmy doesn't waver. "You want to look after my brother, I'll support that." Jimmy smiles, small but genuine. "You're the first man to try."

Castiel's stubble brushes Dean's neck, his mouth pressing a damp trail to the skin, teeth teasing the skin. Sometimes he wishes Cas had some kind of boundaries. Then he catches the look on Jimmy's face, an expression of such affection it reminds him of Sam...but mixed in with a kind of _want _that makes his stomach clench and his jeans feel tighter. A shaky breath escapes Jimmy's mouth and he finally notices that Dean is looking at him, and not the man still sucking lightly on his neck. A flush tints Jimmy's pale face.

"You want to get in on this?" Castiel breaks off to ask, quirking an eyebrow at his brother.

"Married. Cas." Jimmy frowns.

Some of the tension is broken though.

"Yes" Dean says.

Jimmy looks at him, really looks, like he's judging his immortal soul or something.

"Ok, I'll call Bobby in the morning." Jimmy takes one last look at the two of them, the takes a deep breath. "Coffee?"

Dean realises he isn't going to lose Castiel. Not because they're going to live at the Singer Salvage Yard (which for some reason they will never get around to renaming) or because Castiel has been through hell for him, just as Dean has been through hell himself. But because of the look on Jimmy's face, like he's lost the best thing that ever happened to him.

And the way Castiel looks at him, all the time, like Dean is the best thing he's ever had.

The way he said, 'I've never had anything be mine before.'

Dean is never going to lose him, never going to leave him. And he's never going to hurt him.

Someday he'll even get around to saying it.


End file.
